The Elementalist

by Melissa J. Cunningham

  “I was wrong,” he gasped, pulling Hannah into an embrace. He buried his face in her neck, his heartbreak releasing for the first time since Alisa left.

  Hannah let him hold her, but after a moment, she pulled away. “Want to tell me about it?”

  He shook his head, embarrassed, and turned to wipe his face. “I can’t,” he said quietly.

  “She must have been important to you.”

  In surprise, he pulled back, the shock of her words cracking the hard shell he’d only let one person through.

  “I’m not stupid, Brecken. I can tell when a guy is totally into someone else.” Her smile was shy, uncomfortable. “But she isn’t here, is she?”

  He answered with a slight shake of the head.

  “But I am.”

  He gazed into her eyes, deep pools of emerald green. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s okay,” she whispered. “Is she coming back?” The hesitation in her voice stabbed through him. To his dismay, he realized how terribly he had led her on. She was vulnerable… and so was he.

  He shook his head. “No. Never.”

  “Well,” she said, sidling closer. “Then forget about her.” Hannah reached out and placed her hand on Brecken’s cheek, gently pulling his face to hers. Their lips brushed, but instead of deepening the kiss, Brecken turned his face away and hugged her.

  He couldn’t be what Hannah wanted.

  Not yet.

  44

  ~Defeated~

  Alisa

  In a moment of pained lucidity, I raised my head from the stony bench where I lay, dejected, in the dank prison cell. The door was made of heavy, dense wood, and there was only one small opening that served as a window to the outside corridor. There was no light—the beings in Soul Prison barely radiated, at all.

  The only soul who did radiate whatsoever… was me. The uncommonness of my luminescence had all the incarcerated beings screaming for me to save them… as though I could. They begged for relief, pleading for me to free them from their torment. There was no way to block out their cries, and the walls dripped their poison on me constantly. I tried to stay away from it, having been dripped on so many times already, but each experience was rich with white-hot pain, not just in a physical way, but also with the torment of memories… of everything I’d ever done wrong—every word of hurt I’d ever uttered during my life.

  Each memory carried a serrated edge, and when I relived a scene from my past, I felt what the other person felt, and the pain was like a dull knife catching and ripping. This time, I was the one picked on, teased, bullied, or rejected. Each time I was ever cruel, selfish, or prideful, came back to me, and the movie never ended. I was the star in my own little freak show, over and over, forever and ever.

  Tormented.

  I couldn’t imagine how the other souls survived here, but it explained the constant shrieking, crying, and agonized begging that occurred 24/7. I didn’t know how long I’d been locked in that cell without seeing another living being, but it seemed like forever, and since prisoners didn’t need to eat or drink, there was no need for anyone to come around. There was nothing to keep the warden from forgetting the inmates in this cell block. We didn’t sleep, and we would never die. It must have been an easy job as far as that went, other than the insanity one felt listening to us howl. But then again, maybe there was no one listening. Maybe our jailors locked us in and left, never to return. That thought alone gave me a whole new series of nightmares to endure.

  And then one day, someone stood before my door, looking through the four-by-four inch window.

  “Guardian.”

  I looked up, barely able to move, too weighed down in misery. I was too sore to even stretch. “Calvik?” I hobbled over to the door, careful not to touch the walls and the drops of fire that waited there.

  “Someone wants to see you.”

  Hope blossomed, and all I could think was that Raphael had come to my rescue! Or at the very least, Gram or Natty, but how did they know I was here? With demons in charge, could friends come to visit? Calvik unlocked the heavy door, and I walked out into the hall, noticing for the first time the hundreds of other doors just like mine. “How many—?”

  “More than you can count,” he said before I could finish. He took my arm and led me through the labyrinthine passageways, each step heavier than the last. It seemed to take an eternity to arrive at a wide room that looked very much like my cell, only a hundred times bigger. A huge, black, stone throne sat at the front of the great hall. I was ushered in and pushed forward by Calvik.

  I recognized the man who lounged on the throne. He gazed at me with raw hatred, and I actually stumbled back under the onslaught of his emotions. Bas Iblis straightened, his elongated face seeming even more sinister than the last time I’d seen him.

  “Hello, Guardian. I trust you are resting well?” The sarcasm in his voice was not lost on me. I was tempted to say something awful back to him, but I couldn’t seem to form any coherent sentences.

  “And you look lovely as usual.” He stood and walked toward me, a mirror suddenly appearing between his hands. He faced toward me. At first, I didn’t understand what I was seeing. The visage staring back appeared gaunt, extraordinarily thin, her blonde hair dull and hanging in filthy clumps. I was reminded of how Mr. Roland looked the first time I saw him in the tar fields. But this reflection was of me. I was like him now. Tormented. Tortured. A product of this abominable place.

  “Like I said,” he drawled. “Lovely.”

  “Shut up!”

  “It speaks!” Bas Iblis cheered, flipping his hand in the air. The demons that surrounded him erupted in glee, clapping and screeching.

  “Why am I here?” I yelled into the cacophony. “Why am I being held captive? I’ve done nothing wrong!”

  Bas Iblis stretched out a long, ice-cold finger and placed it beneath my chin, raising my face and gazing into my eyes. “My child. This is not about you at all. The world does not revolve around you. You are nothing. Nobody. Unimportant in the grand scheme of things. We don’t need you, nor do we want you.”

  His words pierced through me, as they were meant to, and even though I was a heavenly guardian, taught and trained by powerful warrior angels, I felt weak, alone, and abandoned. I tried desperately not to believe him, but he was so powerful.

  He began to walk away, but whirled around to face me, the long tails of his coat swirling behind him like giant bat wings. “Do you truly not understand? It is Bretariel I want. The Great Undoer! And as his guardian, you proved a greater hindrance than I’d anticipated. I needed you to lead us to him and then get out of the way, which is why we trapped you in Claire’s body.”

  “You didn’t make her perform that spell,” I said, defiant, even though I was truly terrified. “She chose to do that on her own.”

  He wore a look of incredulity. “And just who do you think was there all along, whispering, tickling her mind, just enough to make her believe? You, and the whole human race, are so stupid, so naïve. You believe in God, angels, prayer, and priesthoods, yet you don’t believe in me. You think it is silly and foolish to acknowledge that wickedness walks side by side with holiness.”

  He squeezed my chin, and the jagged edge of his nail dug into my face. “You see, I’m just playing my part. I too believe in God.”

  “No, you don’t,” I spat. “Or you wouldn’t do these terrible things.”

  “Ah,” he said, smiling and letting me go. “That is where you are wrong, guardian. Your God has left you. He is hiding and does not care for His pathetic creations any longer. Here, see for yourself.”

  He held up the gilded mirror like before, only this time, I didn’t see my pathetic reflection, but a dungeon with cell doors like the one I’d been in. I was shown the inside of each cell, recognizing many of the angels who had helped save Brecken and me a year ago.

  Raphael was there too, imprisoned somewhere in this awful place. He sat in a corner, his once-gleaming robes no
longer shining and beautiful. He was dirty, and his dark hair hung in clumps over his emerald-green eyes, but his skin still glowed beneath his filthy robes.

  I lunged for the mirror with a gasp, but Bas Iblis yanked it away. “You see. The world is mine for the reaping, and reap I will, my dear. Reap, I will. Starting with you.”

  He held the mirror up again, and I gazed into its endless depths. The vision was not of a prison this time, but of Earth, of a town I recognized. The boy who came into focus was all too familiar. Beautiful and perfect. He stood in the wooded park where we used to go, holding a beautiful girl with long, dark hair. They kissed, and I had to look away.

  “Behold your true love!” Bas Iblis screamed at me, his tranquil tone morphing into ferocity. Spittle flew from his mouth, and his hands shook. His eyes were deep coals of crimson fury. His angry outburst happened so suddenly that I was shocked into silence.

  He forced me to keep looking into the mirror. The scene changed to Brecken’s basement bedroom. He was on his bed with the same girl… Hannah. They lay together, moving against each other, embracing, kissing, touching. I couldn’t look any longer and turned away.

  “It isn’t real.”

  “Oh, but it is.”

  “I don’t believe you,” I said in a whisper.

  “It doesn’t matter. Truth is truth. Look!”

  As though compelled by some unseen power, my eyes were forced back to the mirror. This time, Brecken was with a woman I did know.

  Lilim.

  She didn’t show herself to him, remaining invisible as she murmured into his ears. She whispered to him unceasingly that his guardian no longer loved him. That I had left him to do other, greater things. Then she tormented him by telling him that I’d fallen into enemy hands and was dead. She gave him a mirror like Bas Iblis’ that showed him my mangled soul, eternally destroyed and dead. The guilt he felt at ordering me to leave was written plainly on his face as he wept alone in that dark basement.

  She called him Bretariel, telling him of his greatness, his power, and that he needed to embrace his past, rising up to fight with those he’d betrayed so long ago. With words of silk, she promised they would forgive him and would welcome him back into the fold, that there was no way he could accomplish the ridiculous requirements God had placed before him. He should not even try.

  How could Brecken not break beneath the onslaught? His mind had to be a jumble of confusion. He was lost and depressed with no one to counteract Lilim’s evil influence.

  Bas Iblis put the mirror down. “And now, do you know what will happen, Guardian?”

  I stared up at him, my eyes wide with alarm, knowing he was about to tell me something awful, something that I couldn’t stop from happening.

  “Your Bretariel will not be able to withstand our Lilim, who is beyond powerful, and he will end his life, forfeiting his deal for eternity. He will be cast down… to me.” He gestured to himself and smiled wide, as though he had already won. “And then he will be mine again, and believe me, I will make him pay for his betrayal.” He said this with a low growl of hatred.

  “Why are you showing me these things?” I said, feeling beaten.

  He reclined, once again, on his throne, intertwining his fingers over his stomach. “Why, to cause you misery, of course. Any little bit of happiness or hope you have is mine to play with. Plus, you are here… and you caused me untold misery when you thwarted my efforts to kill Bretariel the first time, so I am just getting even.”

  I stood there staring, alone in that cold, dark space, with no friends to help me, defeated.

  Bas Iblis threw his head back and laughed.

  45

  ~Making Up~

  Claire

  Claire’s mom opened the bedroom door without knocking. “Why don’t you come downstairs? We could watch a movie or something.” Jamie barely had time to jump into the closet and shut the door before Angela popped her head in. Luckily, they’d heard her coming down the hall.

  Claire stared at her mother, wide-eyed, and swore Jamie’s pulse was pounding in the closet like a Tell-Tale Heart, loud enough for her mother to hear. “Sure, Mom. Yeah. That would be fun.” She continued to sit on her bed, waiting for her mom to go out and shut the door.

  “So… are you coming?” Angela asked.

  “Oh, right. Yeah. Just one second. I’m going to change into some sweats.”

  “Okay. I’ll pick something out. Comedy or romance?”

  “Definitely not romance.”

  Angela laughed, nodding and closing the door. Claire jumped off her bed and threw open her closet. Jamie stood in the midst of her clothes, looking sheepish and adorable. Without thinking, she threw her arms around him and planted a kiss on his lips. He pulled her close by the waist and took advantage of her eagerness.

  All too soon, she moved away. “You have to go. Gotta change and have a girls’ night with my mom.” Her playful smile soothed his dejected expression.

  “Fine. But I’ll be back,” he said in his best Schwarzenegger accent. He was so lovable. Why had she waited so long to let him into her heart? She gave him another swift kiss. A moment later, he was out of the window and gone.

  Claire went downstairs after changing, plopping down on the couch beside her mother. “Mom?”

  “Yeah? Hey! How about Princess Bride? It’s old, but a classic.” Angela said.

  “Sure.” Claire shook her head and laughed. She’d only seen it a million times. Studying her mother, she realized how hard she was trying to repair their relationship, which had been damaged for a few years now. Their camaraderie hadn’t been this comfortable in ages, and she wondered how long it would last.

  Once a hot bowl of buttered popcorn sat between them, Claire said, “So… I’m really sorry about everything. I just… wanted you to know.” Claire looked away, feeling shy and wishing she could confide in her mom about what had really happened with her grandmother. She wanted to tell her. She needed to tell her and lay it all out on the table. Confess and forsake, and all that.

  Angela’s eyes softened. “Oh, honey,” she said, smoothing back Claire’s hair. “Is all this worry over school? We can fix that. I still don’t understand what you were thinking but—”

  “No, Mom. It’s not that. I definitely want to stay at Hill Valley High, and I’ll do everything I can to fix my grades there, but… you wouldn’t understand what’s going on.”

  “Try me.” Angela gazed into Claire’s eyes and for the first time in ages, Claire thought she might be able to tell her mom the truth. She decided to take a leap of faith and started at the beginning, explaining how she stole Alisa Callahan’s brush and earrings, the spells she’d learned and practiced, and the terrible consequences of a spell gone wrong. She ended with the hardest part of all.

  “And it was my fault that Grandma died. I’ve carried that guilt with me for a long time.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Tears formed in Claire’s eyes at the awful realization. “I feel like I killed her.” Saying it out loud made her feel so much worse, and yet admitting the truth also lifted a weight from her shoulders. Maybe her mother would forgive her someday. Maybe she’d be able to forgive herself.

  “What? No, you didn’t,” Angela said, pulling her daughter close and smoothing her unruly hair.

  Claire’s cheeks were stained with smeared mascara. “I did. If it weren’t for me, she’d still be alive.”

  “How can you say that?” Angela tucked some stray hairs behind Claire’s ear. “If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine. I knew what was going on. For heaven’s sake, I participated half the time. Why do you think I quit Elementalism? It wasn’t because it wasn’t fascinating and fun. It was because it killed my mother. If you knew half the things I experienced and saw firsthand…”

  “Really? Like what?” Claire wiped her tears and gazed into her mother’s eyes, realizing that maybe she and her mom weren’t so different.

  “I’m not going to talk about it. It’s nothing
you need to know.”

  “But Grandma? You know what happened?”

  “Of course, darling, and it wasn’t your fault. It was Grandma’s fault. It was like you said, a spell gone wrong. There is evil in this world, Claire, and if you tamper with it, it will burn you. Sometimes, terribly. That is what happened to Grandma.”

  “But she wouldn’t have been doing it that day if it weren’t for me.”

  Angela pulled away with an incredulous smile. “Are you serious? Your grandmother practiced her craft every day, no matter what. It didn’t matter what she was working on or what spell she used. It wasn’t your fault. I miss her too, but she wouldn’t listen to me, and when I wanted to quit, I asked her to quit with me. She refused. She said she’d tapped into a power that was too irresistible to walk away from. She wanted it. She chose her fate, as hard as that is to accept. I’ve let go of the guilt, and believe me, I beat myself up about it for a long time, feeling like I should have done more to stop her.”

  Claire searched her mother’s eyes and saw the hurt her grandmother had inflicted, the doubts, mistakes, and regrets so similar to her own in her relationship with her mom. She saw how the sequence cycled, passed from mother to daughter.

  “Do you see why you need to stop? It could kill you. Literally,” Angela whispered, kissing Claire’s forehead. “Please stop.”

  “Okay. I won’t practice it ever again. I promise.”

  46

  ~It Was All Becoming Clear~

  Brecken

  Brecken couldn’t seem to get away from Lilim. He didn’t see her anymore, which was nice, but he could feel her presence. All the time. He was never alone. He suffered under her barrage of whisperings, morning and night. She was doing it, he assumed, because she had been ordered to, but he also got the feeling she enjoyed it.

  Long-awaited revenge.

  Getting up, he stood in his chilled bedroom, wearing flannel pajama bottoms but no shirt. He stretched and liked the way the cold air bit his bare skin. Taking a deep breath, he decided, once and for all, that this was going to end. His sisters were at school, and he had called in sick. He’d wanted the house to himself today.